


Secrets, Siblings, and Cigarettes

by CrimeAlley1048



Category: Batfamily - Fandom, Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-27
Updated: 2015-06-27
Packaged: 2018-04-06 10:48:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4218834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrimeAlley1048/pseuds/CrimeAlley1048
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Jason Todd finds an uninvited guest at Wayne Manor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets, Siblings, and Cigarettes

Even though he hadn’t been living at Wayne Manor long, Jason figured he knew the house pretty well. There was a hidden stairwell on the south side, for instance, and an extra pantry three doors from the garage. He knew about the cave system, the abandoned lift, and the passage to the east tower— but most importantly, he knew that there was only one room in the entire building that Alfred didn’t clean every month.  
So if you had something to hide, the fifth guest room on the third floor was the place to go. Unfortunately, as Jason learned one Saturday afternoon, he wasn’t the only one who knew the secret.  
When he walked in, there was a man lying on the bed— very still but clearly awake, eyes shut too tightly to be asleep. Oh ho, Jason thought, this was about to get interesting. He smiled, sat down at the foot of the bed, and leaned over the mess of covers.  
“You know I can see you, right?”  
“Yeah,” sighed Nightwing, sitting up. “But I was kinda hoping you were a dream. Hello. What are you doing here?”  
“I live here,” Jason reminded him. The question wasn’t some kind of jab, was it? Was Grayson implying that he didn’t deserve to be in the manor? No— that was stupid. Definitely not what he meant. “Yep,” he repeated. “I live here. But you don’t, so…?”  
Grayson reached under the bed and pulled out an empty laundry basket. “The washing machine at Titans Tower broke, and I don’t have a lot of spare cash just now.” He yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “We were in town, and Bruce is gone for the afternoon, so I figured why not? It’s free.” He threw a sideways look in Jason’s direction. “And nobody was supposed to find out.”  
“Sorry.”  
Okay, he wasn’t actually sorry. It was kind of cool that he’d ruined Grayson’s plan. He didn’t have anything against Nightwing himself— not really, anyway— but the pressure to perform better than him was kind of intense. Sure, Batman never actually said, “the first Robin could have done this better,” but when you read between the lines? It was there. And he didn’t like it. So foiling Grayson’s laundry plot (even if it was completely accidental): awesome. Point one to Team Replacement Robin. Jason watched Grayson roll out of the bed and smooth down the covers.  
“And then you just decided to take a nap?”  
“I got thirty minutes of sleep last night. You know how it is.”  
“Oh. Yeah.”  
“Mmhm.” Grayson finished readjusting the pillows. “Listen, how about you and I do this really fun training exercise? It’s called ‘Don’t Tell Bruce About the Thing.’ Believe me when I say that you will learn valuable skills that you can use many, many times in your future.”  
“Haha.”  
“No, seriously. Please don’t tell him.” He stepped back to examine his handiwork. “He’s already mad enough, and I don’t need that kind of stress in my life.”  
“No promises.”  
“I’ll take it, I guess. Hey, since you’re up here, what are the chances that you would run down to the kitchen and sneak me some food?”  
“Less than zero.”  
“You’re not very helpful, are you?”  
“Footsteps,” Jason told him, pointing to the hallway. “How’s that?”  
“Oh damn.” Grayson shoved aside the bedskirt and dove underneath the bed— “I’m not here, okay? Act casual.”  
How the hell was he supposed to act casual in an empty guest bedroom? Jason scooted into the center of the comforter and propped his feet across the railing, trying his best to look innocent. The footsteps were getting closer— then Alfred walked in the door, holding a stack of folded clothing.  
“Is Master Richard in here?”  
“Master who?”  
Alfred raised an eyebrow and dropped his stack of laundry into the empty basket. “I’m going to assume he is. Tell him he can stay for dinner if he wishes.” He turned back into the hallway.  
“Thanks, Alfie,” came Grayson’s muffled voice from underneath the bed.  
“You’re very welcome.” Alfred’s footsteps faded down the stairwell.  
Nightwing scooted out from underneath the skirt. “Hey, kid.” He held aloft a packet of cigarettes. “What are these doing underneath the bed?”  
“Um…” Yeah, those were his. Bruce was trying to break the smoking habit Jason had picked up in Crime Alley. He was fine with that— lung cancer sounded sort of inconvenient— but sometimes he got antsy, and well…  
“What if we agreed that Batman doesn’t need to know you were here,” he told Grayson “ _or_ that I have those.”  
“You know these things will kill you, right?”  
“Not before Bruce does, if he finds out.”  
“You could be…” Grayson trailed off as underneath them, they heard a car door slam. “What time is it?”  
“Four thirty.”  
“Holy— I was supposed to be out before he came back. Must have overslept again.” He rubbed at his eyes. “Well, I’m toast. Nice knowing you.”  
“You could just climb out the back?”  
“My motorcycle’s parked out front. I stuck it behind a tree, but you know he’s going to notice.” Grayson rolled his eyes. “He’s Batman. I might as well go get it over with. Does this look say ‘apathetic’ to you? It gets on his nerves when he thinks I don’t actually care.”  
Jason folded his arms and stared at Grayson, trying to make a decision.  
“What… are you doing?”  
“Fine.” Jason snatched his box of smokes from Grayson’s hand and pulled a lighter from the dresser drawer. “Get your damn laundry.”  
“I’m confused.”  
“Often, I’d assume.” Jason wandered out on to the balcony, overlooking Bruce and the car he was climbing out of. He lit one of his cigarettes and puffed at it contentedly— three, two, one…  
_“Jason Peter Todd!”_ Bruce’s scandalized voice easily cut through three floors of space. “Just _what_ do you think you’re doing?”  
Creating a distraction, actually, but Bruce didn’t need to know about that. Jason waved at him cheerily. “You’re home!”  
“Get down here this second!” Bruce slammed through the front door without pausing to look at his yard, his trees, or the motorcycle shoved behind them. Another point to Team Replacement Robin— job well done.  
“Window,” he told Grayson. “Now. You’ve got twenty seconds.” He pulled three of his cigarettes out of their box and stashed them underneath the carpet— he wasn’t about to lose them all.  
“Um, thanks?”  
“Yeah. You owe me.” Jason watched Grayson disappear beneath the window sill, dangling his basket beneath him. “Big time.”  
“Fair enough. I guess I’ll see you later.”


End file.
